


And The Beat Goes On

by Kalee60



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drummer Castiel, Falling In Love, Gardener Dean Winchester, Gay Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60/pseuds/Kalee60
Summary: Dean certainly didn’t want free tickets to a random band he'd never heard of and was likely to never see again. “New” music just wasn't his thing, give him The Scorpions any day!But unbeknownst to him, the drummer was about to be thrown into his orbit. Castiel was like no one he'd ever encountered before, and suddenly Dean decided music made after 1985 wasn’t so bad after all - and lusting for a boy in a band was apparently just the thing he needed.





	And The Beat Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> Hey All, thought I would post one of my many Destiel fic's I've had hidden in the depths of my computer for a while. 
> 
> Just a cute, fun, non-serious little one-shot inspired by going to a concert and seeing Art Vs Science (the drummer was brilliant!). You should check them out - Brilliant Aussie, Electro house/Dance Punk Band!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Dean huffed as he looked over the beer selection. What the hell was with all the double hopped and IPA’s on the market these days – he just wanted a god-damn beer that didn’t taste like it was brewed the day before. Dean also winced at the prices – he would similarly like to go home with more than pocket change for his efforts.

‘Seriously, Dean – just pick something and I’ll get the next round – I can see your bitch-face from behind you at the prices.’

Dean glared up and over his shoulder at his brother Sam. He was a tall streak of shit and had dragged him to this god-forsaken pub for a band he’d never heard of, nor was likely to ever hear of again. If Sam’s girlfriend, Jess hadn’t bailed for a last minute all-nighter study session before her exam the next day – Dean could’ve been home, making a burger and enjoying reasonable priced ales from the bottle-shop. It was as Sam smirked at him he realised he really _was_ wearing his bitch-face. Dean schooled his features into something more pleasant as he eyed the barmaid then the barman collectively while he ordered a pint of overpriced IPA.

‘Jerk…’ he said as he shouldered past Sam, who laughed “bitch” in return whilst he ordered a gin and tonic – _bloody hipster._

They had arrived early as Sam wanted to meet with some college friends beforehand, so Dean tried not to awkwardly stand on the edge of them. He liked Sam’s friends okay – didn’t really know them well, but Charlie was an alright sort, as was Garth – well Garth’s taste in classic rock was more to Deans liking. But most of the others he was meeting for the first time tonight.

‘Deano...’

Then there was this clown. ‘Gabriel…’

Dean’s voice was curter than he intended.

‘Well, what crawled up your arse and made its home? _Or_ what would you like to try crawling up there?’ Waggled eyebrows met Dean’s flat gaze. He clearly wasn’t curt enough.

‘Don’t you have somebody else to hassle? _Please?_ ’ Dean glanced around and noticed the room was beginning to fill, this band was clearly popular. Lord knows he hated popular. He felt the weight of his brother’s gaze who mouthed “play nice”. Dean gave Sam a harrowed look and squinted back in annoyance. ‘So why are you here tonight, Gabe – pubs are not really your scene usually.’

Gabriel looked around the room, hands in pockets and grinned as he rocked on his heels. ‘Big night tonight, Deano – it’s my kid bro’s band up there.’

Dean glanced down at the smaller blonde man and re-evaluated his impression of this slightly childlike person. Someone who sounded as proud of his brother as Dean was, couldn’t be a complete bag of dicks. _Hold up_ \- was he eating a snickers? Where the hell did he pull that from? Dean shook his head and thought it best not to wonder about it and said the first thing that came into his mind, ‘I didn’t know you had family.’

‘I’m sure there are mountain loads of things that you don’t know, this is just one of them – do you feel enlightened now you have more knowledge?’ Gabriel licked his fingers clean of chocolate as Dean scowled at his shit-eating grin. This was why Dean didn’t talk to dicks in bags, even if his brother had a somewhat unexplainable soft spot for strays.

‘Well, I’ve certainly learned which friends of Sam’s I like more than others.’

Gabriel’s unadulterated laugh wrung a surprised smile from Dean. ‘Touche.’

So that is how Dean found himself in a conversation over the next half an hour about the pro’s and con’s on sweet cider versus beer. Dean was unmistakably on the beer side of things; his sweet tooth clearly not as rampant as Gabriels. The small man still annoyed the hell out of Dean, but he had begun to see why Sam might have a small slither of fondness for him.

As the crowd swirled and some of the more inebriated patrons danced to the soundtrack playing before the band came on, Dean found himself next to Charlie.

‘So, what exactly do these guys play?’

‘You don’t know?’ her reply shocked, ‘you have no idea who Rusty Borders are? You been living under a rock somewhere, Dean? They basically specialise in electronic dance. You know dance-punk, Electro house...’

Dean felt his heart plummet – oh goody, his favourite type of music – he couldn’t stand doof-doof bands.

‘Lighten up man,’ Charlie laughed at his harangued expression. ‘Look, don’t write them off before you hear them, Mr I - only - listen - to - things - made - before - 1985. I would describe them as popular, alternative with a slutty base line…’

This did nothing to inspire Dean to want to be here. He glared at his brother who he knew was listening in and pointedly wouldn’t turn towards Dean so he could grouch about it. The kid was probably smarter than he gave him credit for.

Sound check came and went and Dean winced when he heard the electronic keyboard being tested. He needed another thirty dollar beer to get through this…

As he wove his way back to the group, the crowd started to go crazy and surged forward as the band came out on stage - Dean narrowly missed losing his beer in the rush. He grumbled under his breath and suddenly realised he really was acting like an old man who complained about everything – he wasn’t even thirty yet – he had to tone down his displeasure at anything…  different.

The band started – the base line reverberated through Dean’s entire body, which made him shake in his boots. The bass player came in next then the drums kicked in as Dean got back to where everyone else… used to be. They had all moved forward as well. So Dean resolutely refused to and stood his ground near the far side of the room. To be honest, he actually had a great view of the stage from there, as he was up on a step – not that it mattered, as so far, he couldn’t stand what he heard.

Then something happened. Something completely and utterly unexpected, Dean looked over the band and his eyes fell to the drummer. _Holy mother of Mary, fuck._ Hypnotic was not a word that Dean Winchester ever used, so it felt like a punch in the guts when he glanced at the drummer and found that he could literally not drag his eyes away. Messy black hair was only the beginning, he swore he saw blue eyes; from this distance he didn’t know how, yet he felt it in his bones. But it was the energy which surrounded the drummer that made Dean lose all wit and suck in a sharp breath. The brunette looked out to the crowd, capturing people’s gaze and then pulling the most adorable faces. A pink tongue would peek out then he’d comically widen his eyes and break into laughter. Dean had never seen such a presence in his life. Not in person, on stage, not even on TV or in the movies. His eyes didn’t blink, they burned with the need, but he was scared if he did then the drummer would mysteriously disappear.

Dean leant heavily against the table, beer forgotten, and watched. He felt a rumble of laughter escape his otherwise quiet body at the antics on stage; this dark haired man was having a ball. He twirled his drumsticks, stood up to get the crowd going then spun on his seat and just generally had a lark. Dean had never witnessed such unfettered enjoyment before. He was a goner.

To make matters worse, he found his foot tapping along with the music, his hips just started to move, which clearly he stopped before anyone noticed. He did not like this music – but, he could _pretend_ to like it if he got to see this drummer play again.

Then it happened – eyes clashed across the room, the drummer’s pink tongue came out as he bobbed away and he winked – he fucking _winked_ at Dean. Dean’s pants got tighter than a professional cyclist wearing lycra, doused in a torrential downpour, whilst out for a ride. His mouth fell open and he gaped; the drummer laughed and winked once more and pointed his drum stick at Dean then licked his fucking lips – _son of a bitch._

All too soon their set finished up, if you could call 2 hours of solid music too soon. As the crowd screamed after their third encore, Gabriel slid in next to him, sweaty but beaming and chatting.           

‘…the drummer’ Gabriel’s voice seemed far away, but Dean caught the last part well enough.

‘What?’ Dean absently mouthed not able to tear his eyes away as the messy haired brunette threw his drum stick into the crowd and lewdly winked at the girl who caught it. His cock stirred further at that lascivious wink and it wasn’t even directed at him this time, the pang of want startled him.

‘My brother Castiel _is_ the drummer,’ Gabriel crowed as he clapped louder than before. _Of course he bloody was._ The first man in years that Dean was absolutely mesmerised by had to be Gabriel _fucking_ Novak’s brother.

‘Fuck my life.’

**\---*---**

Two weeks later, Dean found himself in a sweltering hole-in-the wall bar, sipping the most expensive beer he'd ever bought - something he actually couldn't believe was possible - waiting for Rusty Borders to come on stage. He was at the back of the establishment - alone, not quite sure how to explain to anyone he knew the strange infatuation he had for a brunette drummer. The boys at work would laugh, Sammy would give him the shits because he'd go on and on about the fact Dean had a crush - which he most certainly did _not_ \- a fixation on another human being was completely different.

He'd googled the band the moment he'd returned home and spent too long trying _not_ to take his dick in hand and jerk off to the photos of one Castiel, Cas Novak - he failed miserably and ended up not only having to change his sheets, but had to clean his phone screen as well. He also did not try and explain this to anyone.

Dean took a healthy swig of beer to counteract the absolute heat of the small space cramming in about a hundred people, pleasantly surprised when it didn’t taste like yeasty dirt, then settled in away from the crowd, glad of his anonymity.

'Dean, gosh I never thought I'd see you here!’

Apparently not as anonymous as he'd hoped. As much as Dean inwardly pleaded, the floor would not crack open to let him slither down into the depths of hell where he could hide from Charlie Bradbury, whose bright smile mocked him. _Ok_ , realistically, there would be no reason she _would_ mock him, but Dean still thought the side-eye she gave him was shifty.

‘Big bad Dean is at the Crown and Anchor drinking…what is that?’ Charlie grabbed his beer bottle as Dean wasn’t quick enough to stop the red-headed viper, then she whistled, ‘... a pilsner - bit fancy-pants for a Winchester?’

Charlie was officially off his Christmas card list, the one list that he was absolute about, never let it be said that Dean Winchester went easy on his enemies.

‘Charles, how you doing?’ Dean tried to sound offhand yet looked around surreptitiously for Garth or anyone else he knew, _god forbid_ \- Gabe. Thankfully he didn't see a soul he recognised, he already knew his face must have the appearance of a startled deer if Charlie’s soft unwarranted smirk was any indication. Damn women's intuition - did she know about his _thing_ for Castiel? _Don’t be an idiot, even you don’t really know what the hell it’s about_.

‘I'm good - great actually. Here with a date…. I mean, I'm here with a friend - Dorothy - uh, Dot.’ Charlie turned a slight shade of red which amused Dean to no end, plus it stopped his train of thought on his _not_ -obsession - who was he kidding, he kept looking at the stage hoping for a crumb of something from the band - drummer. Dean Winchester was a fucking obsessed sap.

‘First date then?’

Charlie nodded quick, auburn hair falling into her eyes, which she tucked behind her ear as a soft smile spread, ‘yeah, I hope she likes it here, the band… me.’

As quickly as she was off his annual card list, Charlie was back on it. But before he could reassure her like the consummate older brother figure he was, a stunning short, dark haired woman breezed in, gave Dean the largest grin and spun Charlie into the crowd which had surged forward. The redhead burst into laughter, threw a wave over her shoulder and left Dean to ease himself into a position where he had an unfettered view of the drum kit. He couldn’t help the chuckle which bubbled up as he watched Charlie and her date, Dot, make their way excitedly to the front of the stage. He, to be honest, was slightly jealous of their ability to do so. He would look like a right arsehole, all six feet plus, clamouring for a spot in the front row so he could moon after an unobtainable drummer. Dean necked the remainder of his beer, discontent on how obvious and foolish he felt, lining his stomach.

Before he made the decision to leave the bar, the bass drum kicked in and Dean was literally rooted to the spot. ‘Cas,’ he breathed like a numpty, so very glad it was dark and no one could see or hear him. He also couldn’t let his thought stay on the reason he was acting so out of character over a stranger, he let the thought skitter across the why, then swallowed it down as a light shone straight on Castiel. Now, Dean wasn’t the most romantic of men, but the way the light filtered through Cas’s dark hair and illuminated how toned his upper arms were, had him in the almost throes of a swoon. It really _was_ hot in the bar.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, sticky from sweat and spilled beer, and moved forward without realising he was doing so. His feet belonged to a stranger, as was the movement in his hips, for he found himself dancing in time with the beat - with Castiel, and if that didn’t conjure up images of him moving to a different in-sync beat with the brunette - well, Dean found an uncomfortable weight in his pants.

Castiel did not disappoint (an impossibility in Dean’s mind) he was as animated and cheeky as the first performance and Dean sucked in a sharp breath as eyes flicked past him then came back almost instantly. How in hell could Cas see him from the stage, he couldn't be looking at him - surely not? Though, Dean reasoned, as the intense look moved off his form and a wicked grin and tongue poked out at another reveller, he was almost a head taller than anyone in this section and he’d found himself only a few meters from the front, on the side so as not to block peoples view. Then Castiel’s gaze hit him again, searching.

Dean swallowed thickly, blue eyes tinged in mute surprise met his and Dean swore Castiel cocked a questioning brow at him just a moment before he bloody winked. His spank bank was suddenly full to brimming. But was it just a cheeky wink this time or was it flirting? Dean was usually so good at reading signs, but he had no idea in this moment and he couldn’t comprehend how insane it must be to perform in front of such a crowd, it was probably nothing, then squashed the disappointment this thought caused.

He watched the remainder of the set equal parts horny and confused as Castiel seemed more interested in his side of the room, and when they finished playing he found a drumstick sailing toward him which he snatched from the air. No amount of pleading from the people around him would ever have Dean give up his prize. Not to sound like a ten year old girl, but he now possessed something Castiel had touched (his inner self squeed a little, a manly squee though).

‘Nice work, Winchester!’ Charlie bounced up, hair stuck to her head from the heat, a big grin across her blush infused face. ‘Dean, this is Dot, Dot this is Dean.’

Instead of the hello he expected, he ended up with an armful of sweaty woman. ‘Hey, Dean - nice to meet you.’ Silver eyes grinned up at him and he saw Charlie melt.

‘Likewise,’ he gave a small squeeze, ‘ can I buy you ladies a beverage?’

‘I’d murder someone for a soda, thanks.’

‘Me too,’ Charlie spoke, ‘but put some gin and lime in mine.’ Dot smacked her arm with a playful grin and Dean decided the heart eyes he were a witness to was all he could take for the moment until Dot turned to him and asked, ‘aren't you that guy from the gardeners calendar?’

Dean flushed, embarrassed, _that fucking calendar._ It was about 5 years earlier and Sam’s girlfriend Jess entered him in one of those competitions you see in mall’s across the country - “everyday men”, much to his horror he was selected - he didn’t even want to think about what photo she had used for him to get through the first stage. But ultimately he needed the cash to help pay his horticulture course fees, so he acquiesced. Next minute he was half naked in a garden, shears bigger than his torso, gazing at the camera awkwardly (well that's how he thought it would turn out) as he pretended to manicure a bush into - well, a shape he’d rather not think about. Apparently Jess had to fend her friends off, girls _and_ boys, once it hit stands. Dean, being the perfect gentlemen, never used it for nefarious dating deeds (well maybe once, but Joel really was gifted with his tongue). Dean used the calendar as a means to an end and declined when he was offered further opportunities - he was starting his own (gardening) business that required keeping a professional facade. But he was still surprised by how many people looked it up - stupid Internet.

‘You sure know your old calendars,’ Dean kept his voice low, he really didn't need this getting out especially as Charlie cocked her eyebrow.

‘Nah, my mum had you up in our kitchen for like years - she really enjoyed the month of May for some reason.’ Charlie’s laugh made him burn - he was going to have to find every last one of those calendars and incinerate them.

‘Oh god Dean, google brings it straight up, this is gold.’ Charlie giggled in glee and Dean glared, she quieted down and slid her phone into her back pocket, eyes sparkling.

‘Do you want your drink or not?’ She nodded in a fake meek way and he shook his head. ‘Not a word to anyone we know - right?’

She nodded again, a smirk in place, and Dean sighed heavily, _the kids of today._ He tucked the drum stick in his back pocket then pulled his t-shirt over it (he didn’t trust any of these young folk not to steal it) and went to the bar.

On his way back, carrying three drinks, a skill when in a crowded space, he almost stopped dead. Castiel fucking Novak was standing with Charlie and Dot, had he died and gone to purgatory? This was someone’s way of messing with him - surely.

How he managed to pass over the drinks to the girls then not skull his entire beer in one go was anyone’s guess. He was suddenly a stammering nervous teenager - _get a grip, Winchester - you’re not a virgin, you’ve spoken to many, many men before_.

‘Dean?’ Castiel was staring at him, head cocked adorably to the side in question. Dean was lost in his eyes, Castiel was staring at him - him! Then he realised what the brunette had said and felt tendrils of surprise stir his gut.

‘Huh, Um -  I'm, yeah it is… Dean… how in hell?’

A confident smile graced the most perfect face Dean had ever looked upon. ‘Gabe.’

‘Gabe? Oh - you mean Gabe, Gabe?’ Dean's stomach sank like the Titanic, ‘Oh Christ, what exactly did your brother tell you?’

‘Just your name,’ Castiel clearly lied if the smug grin and slow appraising look to his entire body, head to toe was anything to go by.

For the first time since he was a thin gangly teenager Dean flushed red, to his very hair roots - this did not happen to him. Castiel’s smile was mortifying in it’s knowingness. Could this mythical man read minds? Don’t think about his cock and how mouthwatering he most certainly knew it was, _oh Christ, now you’re thinking about his dick._

‘I haven't seen you at our gigs before, well except tonight and a few weeks ago.’

Surprise filled Dean at Castiel’s words, he’d noticed? ‘Uh no, I guess you could say I’m a relatively new fan.’

‘Brilliant, always love getting new groupies.’ Castiel’s little grin almost detracted from the words he’d just spoken.

‘Hang on - I'm not a bloody groupie. I don’t follow bands around hoping for a free t-shirt, photo op’s or sex.’ _Well fuck_ , he just said that. Ringing in his ears from his mortification made him almost miss Castiel’s wide smile as he uttered, ‘pity.’

Charlie interrupted the most important and horrifyingly embarrassing moment of Deans year, ‘so, you going to get Castiel to sign your stick?’

Dean gaped at her, ‘Charlie - that’s not… fuck you don’t just ask guys to sign your dick.’

The burst of laughter from everyone had Dean drowning in humiliation, _son of a bitch_ what the hell was wrong with him? ‘No you idiot - the drumstick you caught.’

Dean started, he’d almost forgotten that, it was nestled up against his back. ‘I can if you want…’ Castiel trailed off almost looking bashful - _interesting._

‘Sure,’ Dean lifted his shirt and didn’t fail to notice the quick inhale and the way Castiel’s eyes traced the line of his exposed skin for a moment as he grabbed the stick, still warm from his body heat. Castiel looked at it dumbly for a moment before he grabbed it, and pulled a Sharpie from his pocket. ‘You carry a texta?’

‘Of course,’ Cas grinned, all vestiges of unsurity gone so quickly Dean must have imagined seeing it before.

‘Of course,’ Dean mimicked.

‘Well, you never know when hot guys will ask for an autograph.’ Castiel ducked his head as he signed the stick and Dean just looked on dumbly - Castiel just called him hot. _Holy shit._

Castiel handed the drumstick back and without even looking, Dean placed it back in its position, ensuring he lifted his shirt slightly again, and bingo - Castiel watched like a hawk, face red from either the heat in the room, his performance, or, hopefully, because he liked what he saw. Dean still wasn’t sure why for the first time ever he was hesitant regarding asking a guy back to his place. He had never shied away from it before, he had hits and misses, but never worried about the outcome, not until now.

He was too busy thinking about how to work up the courage to ask Castiel out when a guy came up and clapped his hand on the Drummers shoulder. Dean felt his hackles rise before he realised it was the lead singer. He said something to Cas and blue eyes cut his way as he nodded to the singer, a frown marred his features.

‘Uh - yeah, sorry guys - I’ve got to go - but - I hope to hear from you soon.’

He gave a half wave at the girls and just looked into Dean’s eyes for the longest moment, so much so that Dean found his tongue thick in his mouth and he couldn’t do more than nod in return. _Speak up you idiot_! But it was too late, Cas had jumped confidently through the crowd, high fiving and saying “hi” to people as he went.

It wasn’t until Dean was spread out on his bed, berating himself on his lack of game, that he realised he had no way to contact Castiel - well except through Gabe. He shuddered at the thought and grabbed his phone to look up the gig guide. He was just going to have to semi-stalk his veritable wet-dream and this time he would do more than stammer. Dean Winchester was a sex-god - he could do this.

**\---*---**

Dean was going to kill Gabe.

It was a done deal, no one was going to talk him out of it, the small tricksters days were numbered. He was going to poison his chocolate bars. Why was Dean going to kill Gabe? Purely because he stood next to him at Rusty Borders next gig. He was effectively cockblocking Dean, there was no way he could swagger up to Castiel and ask him out with his bloody big brother here. It would be a disaster, as he knew exactly how _he_ would be if Sammy was asking someone on a date and he was within ear shot. The poor kid would have no chance of leaving the venue unscathed. Big brothers really sucked. Dean tried to smile and nod at Gabe’s stories instead of the sulk he wanted to do.

By the end of the set Dean was done, he’d counted no less than seventeen types of candy to enter Gabriel Novak’s mouth and had said no about forty times to everything and anything Gabe offered him - hand-job included. There was only one Novak he wanted that from and he almost blurted it to a grinning Gabe (who was purely messing with him).

After Rusty Borders had done their encore, Gabe spun to him, winked lewdly, which was in no way anything like the sexy as fuck ones Cas gave, and told Dean he was taking his brother out and he’d see him later.

Dean ignored the bitter taste in his mouth at missing an opportunity to see Castiel after the gig, but who was he kidding with? The guy probably had no idea he was here and if he did - why on earth would he make time to come out and say hi to a veritable stranger? So he placed his empty bottle on the bar, and headed out, wondering how he was going to not look like a groupie if he turned up to another bar to watch them - again.

Instead of worrying about it now, he walked across the large car park to Baby, he always parked as far away from others as he could - she didn’t deserve a scratch or dent from drunken people’s inability to open their car doors carefully. Then he heard a shout of his name. Dean spun towards the deep guttural call and felt his toes tingle - Castiel. The brunette jogged towards him, the lights dotted across the carpark, illuminating him in spaces as he neared. Dean felt his throat close up - no he would not freak out. _Remember, you’re a sex god._

‘Hey, didn’t get a chance to say hi after.’ Castiel came to a halt before him and Dean looked on like a moron, unable to communicate how happy he was that Castiel had noticed him once more and wanted to say hi. ‘So yeah - hello.’

‘I’m a sex god,’ Dean blurted. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Before the bolt of lightning Dean was certain was about to crack out of nowhere and incinerate him from having to live in this moment a second longer, Castiel huffed out a burst of laughter. His eyes twinkled in mirth and Dean was so fucking grateful it was dark enough to hide the beetroot hue of his cheeks. ‘Oh, Dean I am _certain_ you are and - well fuck… Look I can’t stay long, gods do I want to but Gabe is waiting inside.’

Just like he knew - Gabe was a cockblocker. Suddenly Dean was pressed up against the door of Baby and had almost six feet of drummer crowding his space. He lost his next breath as lips crashed against his and - _fuck, oh holy fuck,_ Castiel was kissing him.

Teeth clashed against each other and blood swarmed to Dean’s cock as Castiel's lithe body pushed insistently, grinding his hips in a circular motion. He short circuited when the brunette’s tongue invaded his mouth like a conqueror. Heat, wet and slick filled every inch of Dean’s senses and he was nothing but pleasure, lifting from the ground in pure unadulterated need and want for the man who was currently making him lose his head. Castiel kissed like a man possessed with the greatest hunger and Dean was the only one who could satiate it. Dean was desperately trying to get a purchase on a thought other than the want to get naked and feel every inch of the man who was sucking his tongue.

‘Does this door open?’ Castiel murmured impatiently and Dean realised his hand had snaked behind him trying to open Baby’s door which was still locked.

‘Yeah,’ Dean breathed back, anticipation and desire rampant in his deepened voice. Castiel's eyes dragged themselves away from Deans lips, the arousal in the air palpable.

‘So... do you maybe want to - you know - unlock it.’

‘Uh - sure.’ Dean was a dolt, a dolt who had a handful of Castiel Novak as he dragged him into the back seat of his car. It spoke volumes to Dean that he gave no thought about the cleanliness of what he hoped was about to happen or how it might adversely affect his leather seats. Nor did he think how almost impossible it was having two grown arsed men trying to use said back seat in that manner.

Castiel’s full weight on him was an experience Dean didn’t realise he’d craved his entire adult life, and now he knew the heaviness and feel, he was adamant he couldn’t live without it. Hands shaking in excitement and slick with nervousness slid up under Castiel’s sweat-damp t-shirt and over his muscular back. Dean was trying desperately to memorise every plane and blemish with just touch. He had no idea if he’d ever get the opportunity again. Lips pressed hotly against his neck as Cas found a spot which made Dean’s hips jerk upright, which in turn earned him a husky breathless, ‘fuck’ against his neck. Castiel attacked the same spot again and again, driving Dean to the edge of insanity and want. He heard whimpers, thinking it so unlike the confident Cas and he realised it was _his_ throat contracting in small whelps of arousal.

He had never felt so out of control, so lost in the moment. He’d forgotten they were in a car-park at a bar, _real classy, Dean._

Before he could slow things down - not that he wanted to in any way, shape or form, Castiel’s nimble fingers had undone his jeans, as long musician fingers slid into his boxers to grasp his rock-hard cock. Dean suddenly didn’t give a flying fuck if they were standing at the President’s inauguration on the main stage - just as long as Castiel didn’t stop… _oh that_.

His other hand tugged at Dean's jeans, and he found himself moving from one buttock to the other. Cool air hit his legs as Castiel’s mouth came back, devouring every last vestige of self control Dean had fooled himself into thinking he had.

Castiel’s strokes came faster as his grip tightened. Dean had never felt elation nor sensory overload like this before. He grasped the back of Castiel's head holding it tight and returned the favour by plunging his tongue into Castiel’s mouth, trying to show through kissing alone, how very fucking horny and ready to come he was. Cas’s growl of response sent tingles racing down Dean’s spine. He managed to rip Castiel’s t-shirt from his body in one move - at the same time Castiel disposed of Dean’s own shirt. Slick sweaty torso’s stuck against one another as the heat and tickle of chest hair filled Dean’s entire conscious. _This was perfect, so fucking perfect._

The next moment, before Dean could even do anything, Cas had moved down his body, sliding half out the car. Wet heat and the sensation of suckage engulfed his now exposed cock.

‘Fucking hell!’ Dean gasped, his shaking hands making it to the back of Castiel's head. His fingers tangling in the messy brown length, tugging slightly. Castiel hummed in response, making Dean arc up off the leather seat.

Castiel sucked cock as if pleasuring Dean was of the utmost importance to him, Dean on the other hand, fucking loved every touch, hum and lick lathed upon his recently neglected cock. He felt the build-up, tried to warn Cas, but the brunette waved him off. Dean found himself throwing his head back as his orgasm hit with an intensity which threatened to make him blackout. Pulse after pulse of wet heat left his body, as Castiel continued to suck and trace soft lines across his stomach with a free hand, waiting for Dean to come back to himself.

Castiel then did something which blew his mind. The brunette moved back into the car, so he was straddling Dean, then leant over him, a crooked and lusty grin on his face. Dean was a goner. Using one closed fist to hold his body weight, Cas jerked his cock with the other, over Dean’s body, until his face twisted in pleasure. Cas came over Dean’s stomach, white stripes of his pleasure the most magnificent sensation Dean had experienced on his body in years. Once again it hit him how fucking gone on this man he was.

Castiel pulled tissues from God knew where, to wipe both he and Dean clean. And if that wasn’t the sweetest fucking thing, he didn’t know what was.

Before he knew it, they were both standing by Baby again. It was a little awkward, but not as bad as Dean thought it could be - especially as they were re-buttoning pants and sliding damp t-shirts on.

‘I really have to go. But seriously, call me this time.’ Dean nodded in sleepy assent, as Castiel kissed the corner of his mouth before running back across the car-park. Where the hell he got his energy from, Dean didn’t know.

As he drove home, Dean had a moment of panic - how the fuck was he supposed to call Castiel? He still didn’t have a number, and he had the notion that Castiel clearly thought he did have it. He checked the gig guide as soon as he pulled up in his garage back home (how could he wait any longer to find out?) He saw Rusty Borders weren’t playing a gig again for over a month.

 _Fuck_.

**\---*---**

Three days later, Dean was on his way to meet a client who owned a high rise, and was looking at filling an office space with plants and shrubs. He'd never done an internal garden before, and found he was looking forward to the challenge of designing and choosing the plants which would offset the bleak cement walls, yet could also thrive in minimum sunlight.

But before he thought about future work plans, he _had_ to stop lamenting his lack of being able to contact Castiel. He wasn't on social media (only his business was) and although he tried and failed at stalking Rusty Borders, (apparently a gardening firm was not the right platform to inbox bandmates for a guys number) - he found nothing personal about Cas anywhere. Even the phone book was a bust, including the paper based one too (which Dean didn’t realise was still in print). He was at the point where he needed to call Sam to obtain Gabe's number, and suffer any consequences that action might bring down on him. He cringed, knowing Sammy would push the boundaries for future favours. Dean couldn't even get pissy about it either as he would do the same if the roles were reversed.

He was so deep in thought about how he could avoid having to talk to Gabe about wanting his baby brothers number, that he almost bumped into the person walking toward him. He clipped the dark haired man, and Dean held out his hand to steady him saying, ‘sorry,’ before realising the man had stopped abruptly. Black rimmed glasses framed blue eyes, which widened in what Dean could only assume was shock. Dean’s brow furrowed in recognition, and although he realised this guy was gorgeous, (especially as he had a slight glasses kink) he was too wound up thinking about... ‘Cas?’

Castiel blinked owlishly back at Dean, saying nothing. He looked awkward and unsure, and for a moment Dean couldn't help wonder if this man before him was a twin of Castiel Novak. A twin Dean knew he didn’t have (the google research showed up a few things, including Gabe naked at a BBQ. He stopped searching after that).

‘Hey Cas, buddy - are you ok?’ Dean tried again, since the brunette was now gawping at him and looked slightly uncomfortable. A shade of red Dean never thought he'd see, bloomed across cheekbones he longed to kiss once again. He finally took notice of Castiel’s clothes, and almost puffed out a laugh. ‘Going to a fancy dress then, hey?’

The frown Castiel gave him was adorable in its confusion, as was the way he looked down at the black pants, white shirt, red tie and oversized tan trench coat he wore. ‘I uh, I just left work for a meeting downtown.’

Dean blinked once, ‘did you have a gig - here?’ He'd bloody well forgotten how _fucking_ insane Castiel’s deep voice was, and it sent shivers of need down his spine. The absolute desire to get this man naked again and to suck his cock, (return the favour per se) was now the most urgent thing in Dean's calendar. He gave a cursory glance around, all he saw was office buildings - _maybe there was a pop-up bar down a nearby alley_? He wondered if he could afford the beer there...

'No, not a gig. I work across the road, Rivers accounting firm. Maybe you’ve heard their jingle on the radio?’ Cas pointed at a grey building across the road which was around ten stories high, just as drab as the coat he wore. ‘It's uh, it's good to see you, Dean.’

Dean swung his eyes back to the brunette, not truly comprehending that the man before him was the same one, who less than three days earlier had whispered harried words of want into his ear. Words which made Dean for all intents and purposes, feel like a virgin getting his first ever hand job from an older boy behind the school shed. _This_ man looked completely awkward, as he held himself with slight trepidation, then it hit. _Fuck,_ maybe Castiel didn't want to see him again, and this awkwardness was his way of letting Dean down. The disappointment which hit his gut was sharp and hurt more than he thought, but Cas told him to ring _\- didn’t he? Yeah he did, but he didn’t give you a damn number though -_ was he playing games?

Dean _knew_ Castiel had a good time that night, _fuck_ \- anyone with a brain could tell that, but he was in a band, he was practically famous. Dean was - _well_ , Dean. Sure, he wasn't awful to stare at, and he was in particularly good shape, (well, great shape) but he designed gardens for a living. He was, for lack of a better word - boring. This was compared to Castiel, who traveled the country playing gigs, making a name for himself and most likely, (as much as it twisted Dean’s innards) boning everything that walked.

Dean was unsure where this trench coat wearing man fit into the persona, but Dean was a groupie, a flash in the pan fuck - nothing serious. And as grateful as he was for the opportunity to know Cas in a carnal way, he _still_ wanted more. Dean was a sap who had confused himself, and in the process looked like a right dork as he stood on the side of the road, staring at Cas while he said nothing. _For fucks sake, say something!_

‘Uh, good to see you too man, like _really_ good.’ He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, knowing he was flushed red, he could feel the heat under his awfully sweaty palm. He should move, he should walk on - _go, Dean!_ _Don't stand there looking like a plank of inanimate wood_. Then Cas gave a half smile at his words, and Dean lost every thought in his head except - _whoa_. That was _one_ of his smiles, one he used on stage. The very one that sucked Dean in like nobody's business, (then that damn mouth sucked the bejesus from him soon after). ‘Uh - I didn't realise you wore glasses, or had a real day job.’ _Holy shit Dean did you really just ask about his freaking glasses? Top notch flirting there buddy, - moron_.

Cas reached up and grasped the right corner of them self consciously, and Dean watched in fascination as he blushed, this guy was _fucking_ blushing - what happened to the confident man who pulled Dean into the back seat of his _own_ car and jerked off over him?

‘Yeah I do, have to pay the bills somehow - and the glasses - well, I usually wear them most of the time. I mean, not for gigs obviously - glasses get too sweaty and I guess it doesn't suit the persona of a drummer.’

‘They look hot, I mean they uh, they look good, they suit you.’ _Dean you douchebag -_ _you are a confident sex god_ \- _remember_?

Castiel gave a slow lazy smile at his words, making Dean swallow thickly in remembrance of that very mouth stretched out over his cock. It was definitely not the right time to be thinking those thoughts.

‘Do you eats? I mean - with me?’ Dean only _just_ heard the monstrosity which came from his throat - _what the hell is wrong with you Winchester?_ ‘God damn it. I mean, would you like to get dinner with me one night?’

Castiel’s eyes twinkled as his smile spread further, 'I do eats, so yes, I’m agreeable with getting food with you.’

Dean exhaled slowly, trying not to look too ecstatic. He somehow knew he failed miserably due to the smug and satisfied look Castiel threw his way. Dean was a bloody sap, a big _fuck-off_ sap.

‘Perfect, that’s great - like Wednesday?’

‘Wednesday suits me, so yes,’ Castiel looked at his watch, while Dean fist pumped the air like a twelve year old, schooling himself into nonchalance when those blue eyes landed on him again. ‘Sorry, Dean - I've got to go, I’m late for an appointment, so hear from you later?’

Dean grinned, ‘you can bet on it.’ Cas stood motionless for a moment, indecision clear on his face, before he shook his head slightly. He then gave Dean a quick nod, and was out of view in moments. Dean couldn’t help but wonder what Cas was thinking about right then, was he thinking about kissing him? Because Dean sure as hell had been fantasising about it non-stop for twenty minutes.

Looking at his own watch Dean let out a curse, he was now late for his own meeting, he’d text Cas after. It was that particular thought which sent his stomach into a spiral of sick despair - he still didn’t get Castiel’s number. The one thing he’d been fixated on for weeks now, and gorgeous blue eyes, an ugly coat and a knowing smirk had sent all brains to his dick.

When he arrived home later that night, Dean was more than a little frustrated and annoyed. _Why in hell didn't he remember the goddamn number?_ He grabbed a brew from the fridge - an American Pale ale, (he was broadening his hops horizons) and slouched despondent on his couch, watching his phone, knowing this call to Sammy would be horrendous.

As he started to search for Sammy’s number, he spied the drumstick he threw on the coffee table a few nights earlier, and leaned forward to grasp it. This was his one piece of tangible evidence Cas was not a figment of his imagination. He _would_ get his number and suffer Gabriel’s incessant ribbing at some point - then he saw it. The scrawled signature of Castiel, followed by ten clear numbers.

‘Son of a bitch,’ laughter rumbled from his chest at the obscurity of it all, he’d had Castiel’s freaking number for weeks.

 **Sent** : <image 287> really? Does this work with all the boys?

 **Received:** I don't know, did it? You're the first I've tried it with.

This started a seven hour text conversation, and although Dean’s eyes could hardly stay open as he lay in bed texting, he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

**\---*---**

Dean looked around his place one last time, searching for any dust bunnies, and purposely _didn't_ re-check that his sheets were clean. (He'd checked six times already, even though he'd changed them that morning - twice).

He decided he actually _wanted_ to chat with Castiel, not compete with loud music, other people and distractions, so he invited him over for burgers on the grill since it was still nice out. He found himself intrigued with Castiel's story, the two complete different personas were world's apart, and Dean wanted, _no -_ he craved to know more. Castiel was an enigma he was determined to unravel.

A shy knock on his front door came soon after, and Dean huffed into his hand to check his breath. Satisfied, he opened the door - only to find he somehow lost his jaw in the process, because he was certain it had dropped off at the sight of Cas.

‘Well, fuck me...’ Dean watched as Cas’s eyes opened wider, and he just about died on the spot. 'I said that out loud didn't I?’

‘Yeah, just a little bit,’ Cas smiled softly then looked around, his mouth moved as if to speak but then he stayed quiet. Dean looked his fill in this space of reprieve. Cas wore skinny jeans, a deep blue button down with an oversized cardigan, which should have looked like Grandpa Winchester's Sunday morning robe - _but by god_ \- it didn't. It looked spectacular, just like the glasses perched on Castiel's nose, which was scrunched up in thought. ‘Is that a good fuck me? Or a bad one?’

Dean chucked, and motioned for Cas to come in, ‘with you, I'm pretty sure they are _all_ good fuck me’s.’

The way Castiel’s smile lit up the porch, was worth every second of mortification Dean had to endure at the slip of his tongue.

Castiel, he soon found out, was brilliant help in the kitchen, another surprise to add with the other things he'd learned. It was also one more nail in the coffin of Dean's, don't fall in love with Gabriel Novak's brother plan. They chatted easily about the more mundane tasks of being a fully fledged adult, while Dean cooked. Cas also didn't like how excited he got when he bought a new fridge recently, adulthood they decided - was overrated.

When the burgers were ready they sat out on the deck, sunlight filtering through the big Oak at the back of Dean's yard, while they ate and chatted over a beer. Dean was just as enchanted with non-drummer Cas, he found the shyness had evaporated the more they spoke and laughed.

'You know, I was worried that day,’ Cas startled Dean from his musing on how comfortable he was, and how he also wanted to rip the clothes from Cas’s body.

‘What day?’

‘The day we bumped into each other down the street.’ Cas took a long pull from his bottle, Dean noticing the tightening around Castiel's eyes, and wondered what was going through that gorgeous mind of his.

‘Why's that? Worried I was going to knock you over flat?’ Dean tried to make light of the situation.

Castiel bit his lip for a second, then took a breath. ‘Because of - well, because of this…’

Dean watched on confused, as Castiel waved a hand over the front of himself, not unlike he was on a gameshow and he was the prize. He _was_ a prize, but Dean knew his mind was running away from him again. So instead, Dean looked hungrily at the man before him, and couldn't fathom anyone having issues with any of it. Cas was breathtaking in this moment of normalcy. ‘Cas? You _do_ know you're fucking amazing? Always. I’m the unkempt bloody gardener who owns more checked shirts than there are grains of sand on the beach…’

Castiel's face split into a pleased grin at his words, ‘ha, thanks, no - its just people who meet me as the Rusty Borders drummer just don't seem to get _me_ outside of that. They expect me to be this _other_ person all of the time.' He took a deep breath, ‘performing is an absolute blast, I love it - the energy and excitement beats through you for hours after, and you're all adrenaline and confidence, but once it all wears off - I’m just, well - _me_ …’

Dean sat gobsmacked, 'Cas - have you had guys dump you, because of that?’

The Brunette didn't answer but grabbed his bottle of beer and took a swig, then worried his bottom lip for a moment. Dean wanted to climb over the damn table and devour Castiel whole, in a completely non-cannibalistic way. The fact he was worried Dean was one of those arseholes, made him angry - not at Cas, never at Cas - but at all those other callous fuckers who made this mesmerising man feel not worth it.

‘Cas - man - you are, mind the horribly overused phrase, but one in a damn million, hell - trillion. If people don’t like this,’ he waved his hand towards Cas as he got up out of his seat, ‘then they are complete morons who have no idea what they’ve let go. But, I do have to be brutally honest about something here…’

Cas looked up at him warily, as he stalked around the table. For once Dean was feeling a little more in control around this amazing being. Dean saw Castiel catch his breath, ‘what is it?’

‘I’m glad they let you go - else, I wouldn’t be here right now doing this,’ Dean grasped Cas by the back of the neck, then leant down to kiss the surprised man. His lips were still wet from the beer he’d just consumed, and they tingled against Dean’s delightfully. Dean did the only thing he wanted to in that moment - he opened his mouth, and deepened the kiss.

The groan which tore itself from Castiel’s throat was downright filthy, and Dean only barely managed to keep the kiss’s momentum going. All he really wanted to do, was haul arse to the bedroom and taste every square inch of this man, and he meant _every_.

But before he could put any plan into motion, Cas was pushing Dean up and back, until he fell against the table, and somehow Cas slotted himself between Dean’s legs. _Sneaky son of a gun._

Dean’s shirt was pushed back over his shoulders as Cas attacked his neck, making Dean throw his head back, then slide his arse forward so their cocks aligned.

‘Dean…’ Castiel ground out, and Dean just about came from the guttural murmur. Cas grabbed his arse, and pulled him closer to the edge of the table. Dean had never been so glad in his life he didn’t cheap out on the solid timber outdoor setting, a lesser piece would have collapsed under their weight already. ‘Just so you know, I love your rugged checked shirt look, complete with ripped jeans and dirty boots - very - rustic. Have you ever thought about modelling - like for a calendar?’

Dean caught his breath, _that fucking one picture could go suck a dick_. ‘Cas?’ he warned. But instead of the laughter he was expecting, his gaze met Castiel’s hooded one. The brunette leaned forward and husked into his ear, ‘seriously, that calendar you did - just about ripped my pants from my body, with how quick I got hard.’

Castiel’s tongue traced the shell of his ear, making Dean inhale sharply as something else danced in his stomach at his words, ‘you are so goddamn gorgeous, standing at the back of the bar watching me play, all broody, making everyone else in the room insignificant.' Dean was lost in words and sensations as Cas smiled at him. 'I still can't believe you actually wanted the drummer, not the lead singer.’

‘Fuck, Cas - the trick is finding out how, _not_ to want you. Come here,’ Dean grasped him in a tight, hot and wet kiss, which lasted less than ten seconds but the tingles went much longer. ‘Is this what you want? Like, now - here, this - fuck - _us_? I mean, did you want to move this to the bedroom?’

Castiel’s smirk was sexy as fuck when he nipped at Dean’s lips, ‘Yes, I’ve wanted this since I first saw you, and _no_ this isn’t a one night thing for me.’

The relief which coursed through Dean at those words, was absolute. He wasn’t letting go of this, not anytime soon, not anytime ever - especially if things kept up like this. ‘Me too, Cas - I’m all in, whatever you want - it’s yours.’

‘What I want, is you naked on your bed so I can finally see your gorgeous bowlegs spread out before me. Then I’m going to take you apart one lick and suck at a time. As gorgeous as your car is, I didn't nearly get enough taste of you.’

Dean actually jerked, his goddamn dick twitched enough, his body moved at Cas’s words. ‘Fuck - let’s go.’ he somehow managed to grind out, as his body sang in anticipation and he dragged Castiel inside.

They didn't even make it half way down the hall before shirts, cardigans, jeans and underwear were off, and Castiel had Dean hard up against the wall, mouthing around his cock.

Dean meanwhile, was in sensory heaven. Although all he could think about was the Ren and Stimpy socks on his feet, which was the only piece of clothing he wore. Why he was fixated on that he wasn't sure, but it might have been because when he looked down, if he watched Cas’s mouth lathing and surrounding his cock - he was going to shoot his load in two seconds flat. So looking past that to his sock clad feet, was preferable than having these sensations last only a moment.

Cas hummed around him, and Dean tensed as hands grasped his thick thighs and tightened with every suck. Blue eyes looked up into his, and Dean found once again his hand running through and grasping Castiel's hair, never breaking eye contact.

‘Cas, buddy, you're going to have to… unf,’ Dean's head hit the wall, as teeth grazed his sensitive skin, before he quickly came back into himself, ‘I can't last if you keep doing that.’

Much to Dean's relief, or disappointment (he wasn't sure which yet) Cas disengaged himself, and sat back on his heels. His chin was red and spit slick, eyes half closed, and when Dean looked down further - he was hard, painfully so, if the red purple straining of his cock was any indication. Dean couldn't help it. He fell to his knees and pushed a surprised Cas back onto the plush carpet, and engulfed his cock in a hurried frenzy of licks and soft bites. There was no way on this green earth, he could wait to get to the bedroom before he got to taste Castiel. He felt like he’d been waiting a lifetime.

If Castiel was gorgeous when he sucked cock, he was even more terrifyingly beautiful being on the receiving end of it. His chest was flushed red and speckled, blue eyes hidden behind screwed tight eyes, jaw clenched while he moaned out his pleasure at Dean’s ministrations. Dean was leaking on his carpet, and by god he didn’t give a fuck, if the stains didn’t come out, well who cared? He had this memory, would always have this recollection of the first time he sucked Castiel Novak's cock. This drummer, this bloody accountant, was extraordinarily good at making Dean lose his reason.

Hands pulled Dean’s head away, and with an obscenely wet pop, Castiel’s wavering cock came out of his mouth.

‘Dean…’ Castiel’s voice was blown, he had no idea how the brunette managed to get such a low octave, but it did things to Dean, gave him naughty thoughts.

‘Bed, - seriously, Cas. I don’t want you to fuck me on my hall floor for the first time.’

He watched as Castiel closed his eyes slowly, and when they opened, the hunger in his eyes had Dean quaking. It looked like he was about to be eaten whole by the big bad wolf - and he couldn’t fucking wait.

Seconds later, Castiel had pushed him back onto the bed, and one-by-one pulled his socks off with a smile, ‘I love this cartoon.’

‘Yeah…’ Dean husked back, as Castiel’s hands began to run up his calves.

‘Uh - huh. Mother wouldn’t let me watch it as a child, but I now have the entire back catalogue, we should - you know, watch it some time…’

Dean hummed in reply, only because those damn hands had reached his thigh junction, then slowly pushed his legs back up so his knees pressed against his stomach. He was completely exposed to Cas. He wondered why he didn’t feel nervous or tense at the unfolding of events, because he damn well was before Cas arrived. The uncapping of the lube he’d left by his (twice made) bed, snapped in the quiet and before he could think too long on it, a cool smooth finger was circling his pucker. _Fuck_ , it felt too good already, and Castiel hadn’t pushed in yet. Dean topped _and_ bottomed, he wasn’t fussed truth be told - but he had an idea that Castiel preferred to top. Maybe this was because of his confident stage persona, then off stage his demeanor screamed passive. Dean had a hunch and went with it, and if Castiel's reaction was anything to go on - Dean had made the correct choice.

A thumb entered him, and he tensed slightly, as he’d not had someone else do this in the longest time. Castiel grabbed Dean’s cock, and started to twist and slide. He’d lubed up both hands, and Dean was in the throes of sensory overload. After a few minutes of teasing and pushing, a second finger joined, making the burn more prominent.

‘Dean - holy fuck, you are phenomenal, so tight and so hot. Christ, being inside of you is going to be…’ Castiel drifted off, and Dean opened his eyes and looked down his body at the brunette. Blue eyes were riveted on what his hands were doing, and Dean had to look back up at the ceiling, because the absolute rapture on Castiel's face as his fingers disappeared into Dean - was going to make Dean explode.

‘Cas - you’re killing me man,’ Dean couldn’t believe the whine had left his throat. Cas smirked, and teased Dean by flitting a third finger against his already stretched and tight pucker. ‘Fuck - I have condoms - there.’ Dean managed somehow to point over his shoulder.

‘Thank god - I had one in my jeans pocket, which is now… well, somewhere along your hall.’

Dean started to chuckle, but it was swallowed by a gasp as that third teasing finger started to push. It had been a while since Dean had been so full, and had to take it slow when fucking. He loved the build up, but he hated waiting. Castiel felt his impatience, and leant over Dean to capture his lips once more. Dean hungrily leaned up into it, the angle creating an even tighter fit in his arse. He clenched, and Castiel moaned into his mouth. He tried a few more times until Castiel leant back, eyes sparkling. ‘You keep teasing me like that, and I’ll make you wait longer - would you like my tongue in there?’

Dean saw stars, _holy fuck,_ the idea alone had his already weeping cock, jerk and lose more pre-come. ‘God’s yes - but not tonight - tonight I need more - I need...I need...’

‘I got you, Dean - I know what you need.’

While Cas kept preparing Dean in a slow torturous way, that had him on the brink of the precipice of coming or crying, he heard the tear of a wrapper, and Castiel’s hands left him momentarily. The anticipation was almost as good as the feeling of Castiel’s fingers filling him.

The nudge of a blunt hard cock at his hole had Dean arching his back, and wriggling forward. Castiel laughed low, ‘patience, Dean… I’m here, and I’ll look after you - ok?’

Dean nodded, and threw his head back as inch by glorious inch of Castiel’s heat entered him. _Fuck_ \- he was bigger than anything Dean had used on himself in the last year, and as uncomfortable as it was at first, and completely not the sexy way Dean imagined Castiel pressing into him - the brunette knew exactly what he needed, and gave him ample time to adjust.

Soft, wet open mouthed kisses helped Dean relax around Cas, until he moved in permission. Castiel didn’t need another moment, before he pulled up and pushed back, a quick snap of his hips which lifted Dean half up off the bed - _well fuck - that felt…exceptionally toe curling._

Then it began in earnest - the cat and mouse game of bringing Dean to the edge, only to back off. Castiel was the devil in disguise, Dean decided. He knew exactly when to pull back, then shove forward, filling Dean completely and absolutely. He was not going to be giving this up. Not lightly, and not without a fight anyway.

Sweat sheened on Castiel’s face and chest, and Dean leant up and licked a salty stripe from him, clenching unintentionaly as he moved. This made Castiel stutter in his movements - so the mouse began to play back. Dean’s plan was working to both of their benefits, until Castiel growled and slammed into Dean over and over and over again. Dean was a sobbing mess of sensation and movement, when Castiel grabbed his cock and started to jerk him tight and fast. He could feel the brunette’s hold on himself slipping, and when Castiel came deep inside of him, pulsing with a clenched jaw, Dean took over, and twisted his hand tightly over his own cock until he came. Castiel’s slowly softening cock, nestled in his arse was magnificent. It was the best fuck he’d ever had - _hands down._

After more minutes than Dean would like to admit to recover, he got up (on shaking legs which Castiel gave him grief about) and grabbed a cloth to wipe themselves off on. Dean flung it to the opposite side of the room, much to Castiel’s grimace and “you can’t leave it there,” to which he replied with a crooked eyebrow, ‘can’t I?’ They climbed, smiling into Dean’s messed up bed.

‘I’m so glad I ran into you down the street, it saved me a huge amount of arse kissing, and from being a slave for months.’ Dean rolled up behind Castiel, attempting to be the big spoon, it didn't work. Castiel wriggled like an octopus in a string bag to get comfortable, before he finally punched the pillow into submission and grabbed Dean tight. _Oh_ , so _he_ was a little spoon, he'd only ever allow Cas to do this to him. The drying of sweat between them, soon forgotten in the press of bodies.

‘How so?’

‘Well, I was going to have to ring Sammy to get Gabes number. Which would have resulted in me doing favours for him for about six years, and who knows what the hell Gabe's response would have been - break into Wonka's and steal all the chocolate…’

Dean felt Castiel's laughter rumble against his back, maybe little spoon wasn't so terrible.

‘Hang on a second, Sammy - as in Sam Winchester? He's your brother?’

The incredulous tone in Castiel's voice had Dean lean forward, so he could look around,'Yeah he is, big pain in the arse, hang on, do you know him?’

‘Yeah I do. Jess was an intern in our office for a bit, about four years ago. I've known Sam for years, I mean I catch up with Jess more than him, but that's how he met Gabe.’

Dean was gobsmacked - did that mean he could have met Cas years ago? Why in hell had Sammy never told him that this man existed - he was going to give him the Chinese burn of a lifetime for withholding.

‘Hey Dean,’ Cas’s sleepy voice murmured moments later.

‘Yeah?’

‘So, where can I get one of those calendars?’

‘Cas - shut up and go to sleep.’

The huff of laughter in Dean's ear, then the tightening of arms around him had Dean feeling complete, the first time in the longest while. He was going to live in the now, take risks, try new things and that would be ok - as he'd have Cas by his side, which was brilliant, even if he _did_ snore.

Nobody was without fault, but together, Dean was sure they were perfectly imperfect.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Massive shout-out to Darter_blue - for without her encouragement, editing skills and being the best friend someone could ever wish for - this story wouldn't exist! (She's also a great concert buddy who was with me when I got obsessed with the drummer...)


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